


Hold Me After I'm Gone

by Mademoisellesnowflake



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e04 The Good Soldier, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 18:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mademoisellesnowflake/pseuds/Mademoisellesnowflake
Summary: After Marsac is shot in the armoury, Treville is the one who has to help Aramis.My take on what happened after Marsac died.





	Hold Me After I'm Gone

**Author's Note:**

> My overactive imagination has made me write a new story and apparently I'm not ready to let go of Savoy :"D I hope you can enjoy another painful story about Aramis!

Marsac was dead.

Marsac was dead, shot by Aramis and Treville was left alone to pick up the pieces as Aramis cradled Marsac’s head on his lap. Aramis was staring at Marsac’s lifeless form while Treville tried to piece himself back together after Marsac’s sudden reappearance. He slowly pushed himself on his feet and walked to Aramis who had yet to move. As he placed his hand on Aramis’ shoulder, he could feel the slight tremors wracking through Aramis’ body, signalling that Aramis was in shock and possibly wouldn’t understand if Treville tried to speak to him. Treville sighed and walked to the armoury door, hoping to find someone trustworthy on the courtyard.

“Jacques!” Treville called out to the stable boy. “Go find Jean and Bertrand! Tell them I need help in the armoury!”

The young stable boy nodded and ran off to find the two musketeers Treville had mentioned. Treville walked back to Aramis and knelt down to observe Marsac’s body. It was odd; Marsac looked like he was only sleeping on Aramis’ lap like he’d done so many times before. Only he was dead, and Aramis was unable to fathom it.

“I’m so sorry, son”, Treville breathed. “By God, Aramis, I’m so sorry.”

After a few moments Treville noticed that Aramis was stroking Marsac’s cheek gently. Treville felt a pang of guilt in his chest, realising just how hurt Aramis must be if he was exhibiting the loving gesture, no matter how unconsciously.

“We’ll bury him in the musketeer graveyard, Aramis”, Treville whispered. “He’ll be laid to rest with your brothers. Like a musketeer.”

For a moment, Treville thought he’d seen a smile on Aramis’ face but as soon as he realised it was there, it had disappeared. Treville sighed again and placed his hand on Aramis’ shoulder, squeezing it.

Jean and Bertrand arrived soon, looking surprised when they saw Marsac’s body and Aramis cradling it on his lap. Treville told the two to fetch a cart they could use to take Marsac’s body to wait for burial. As the two left, Treville began trying to help Aramis stand. It wasn’t easy – Aramis didn’t want to leave Marsac just yet.

When Jean and Bertrand returned, Aramis still hadn’t moved. Treville told the two men to take Marsac away so he could take care of Aramis. When Jean began moving Marsac away from Aramis, Aramis made a sound not very far from that of a wounded animal’s. Treville held him back so that Marsac could finally be taken away.

“He’s gone, Aramis”, Treville whispered. “Come, we’ll wait for Athos and Porthos to return to the garrison in my office. I have things to tell you.”

Treville eventually hoisted Aramis up on his feet and began walking him slowly towards the courtyard and the stairs to his office. Aramis wasn’t paying attention to anything going on around him as they walked, only trusting Treville blindly.

As the two were nearing the stairs to Treville’s office, Aramis suddenly leaned to the side and began throwing up. Treville held his left arm to keep him standing and rubbed circles on his back to soothe him. When Aramis was done, Treville quietly called for the stable boy to clean up while he’d stay with Aramis.

As the two reached Treville’s office, Treville pulled a spare chair out for Aramis and sat him down on it. He then fetched a blanket for Aramis and wrapped it around his shoulders.

“You wanted answers to everything that happened at Savoy”, Treville said quietly after having sat down on his chair. “I had hoped I’d never need to tell you what truly happened there but after today, you deserve to know.”

Aramis looked at Treville with almost a panicked look in his eyes. Treville felt a pang of self-loathing inside him; he knew Aramis couldn’t shield himself from what was to come and Treville hated himself for using the opportunity to tell Aramis about Savoy.

“The duchess of Savoy is a French spy”, Treville explained. “Five years ago, Cluzet, the Spanish spy and the duke’s advisor, had begun suspecting her of being a spy. When the cardinal found out that the duchess was in danger, he saw an opportunity in the training exercise we’d set up at the border of Savoy. He told me to reveal your position to the duke, telling me that the duke would appreciate knowing that there was a troop of musketeers at his border. What I didn’t know was that the cardinal was going to twist the information so that your mission was to kill the duke and place his infant son on the throne.”

Aramis made a distressed sound in his throat and Treville looked up at him. It surprised Treville how young Aramis looked; Treville knew Aramis was barely thirty years of age but somehow the look of shock on Aramis’ face made him seem even younger.

“We managed to snatch Cluzet”, Treville continued, “he’s in Bastille now. I found out, five days later, that the reason we had succeeded was because the duke had been away, ambushing a group of soldiers. The twenty-two musketeers I’d sent to Savoy. When I found out, I rode to the site with a few musketeers as fast as we could. It was only by a miracle we managed to arrive in time to find you alive.”

“That’s it?” Aramis asked after a moment, his voice rough. “All those men died because the cardinal decided to use us as decoys for France’s gain?”

“Yes”, Treville said. “I regret it every single day. I regret being unable to save you and forcing you to endure something so terrible. You should never have had to go through it.”

“I did”, Aramis whispered. His eyes were unfocused, and he was looking at somewhere over Treville’s left shoulder. Treville shook his head, angry at himself for having caused such a mess.

“I’m sorry”, Treville offered quietly, unsure if Aramis would ever forgive him. Even if Aramis ever forgave Treville, he wasn’t so sure he could forgive himself after causing such terrible pain to Aramis.

Aramis continued staring into somewhere far away and silence fell into the office. Treville began reading through his papers, waiting for Athos, Porthos and d’Artagnan to return to the Garrison from doing whatever they were doing.

After no more than twenty minutes, there was a knock on the door and Treville’s head shot up. He looked at Athos who walked inside the office wearing a confused look.

“Jacques told us to come up here, that you’d have something for us”, Athos said before noticing Aramis’ slumped form on the chair. When he noticed Aramis, his expression morphed into one of disbelief. “What happened here?”

“Marsac”, Aramis croaked almost desperately but before he could continue, Treville interrupted him.

“Marsac tried to shoot me”, Treville told firmly. “Aramis had to kill him to save my life. I’m not going to ask why Marsac was here in Paris and at the garrison; all I’m asking of you is that you won’t leave Aramis alone tonight.”

“I’m fine, captain”, Aramis said softly. D’Artagnan, who had knelt down next to Aramis, shook his head.

“No, you’re not, Aramis”, d’Artagnan said. “Not after something like that. I’ve known of stronger men who’ve been crushed under the guilt of having killed their best friend.”

“The lad’s right”, Porthos said as he walked to Aramis. “We’ll keep you company tonight. There’s no way you’re alright.”

Aramis looked at Porthos helplessly as Porthos helped Aramis stand up and hugged him. Aramis leaned into the hug, breathing in the safe smell of Porthos’ leather doublet while Porthos made soothing noises into Aramis’ ear.

“We should go”, d’Artagnan said. “I’ll go get some wine and bread from the kitchen for us; I’m sure Serge won’t mind.”

“Good idea, lad”, Porthos said. “Come on, Aramis. Let’s go to your room and get some food into you. You should rest.”

Aramis followed Porthos mutely with d’Artagnan trailing behind them. Athos stayed with Treville to get an explanation, hoping to find out something that would help Aramis.

When Porthos and Aramis arrived safely to Aramis’ room, Aramis sat down on his bed. He took off his gloves and dumped them on the floor before running his hands through his hair.

“There’s blood on your doublet, Aramis”, Porthos said softly. “Let’s take it off. I can try to wash off the blood.”

Aramis let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and “ah”. He began unstrapping his various belts and sash so that Porthos could take the doublet but when Aramis saw the blood, he stilled. He made a distressed sound at the back of his throat as his breathing sped up.

“Hey, hey, hey”, Porthos said and grabbed Aramis’ face, forcing him to look at Porthos. “You’re safe, Aramis; you’re with me in your room. Just breathe and concentrate on me, okay?”

Aramis nodded shakily, grabbing Porthos’ arms and squeezing them. He managed to take a few deep breaths before Porthos gave him a bone-crushing hug. Aramis melted into the hug instantly, wrapping his own arms around Porthos.

“It’ll be alright, Aramis”, Porthos mumbled. “We’ll help.”

“I’m fine”, Aramis mumbled again.

“No, you’re not”, Porthos said. “You will be, but right now there’s no way you’re fine.”

Before Aramis could reply, the door opened and d’Artagnan walked inside. He was carrying a basket filled with bread, cups and two bottles of wine.

“Serge is making some stew right now”, d’Artagnan said quietly. “I can go get some for us later. Athos isn’t here yet?”

“No, he hasn’t come here yet”, Porthos said. “Thanks for bringing all that up.”

“How are you feeling, Aramis?” d’Artagnan asked softly.

“A little empty, I guess”, Aramis mumbled. “Truth to be told, I’m not feeling much at the moment.”

“You must still be in shock”, d’Artagnan said, sitting next to Aramis. Porthos unbuttoned Aramis’ doublet and slid it off so he could start scrubbing off the blood. The three sat in silence until Athos walked in.

“How are you?” Athos asked. Aramis looked up, staring blankly at Athos.

“I’m alive”, Aramis said quietly, “so I guess that’s good. Right now, I don’t think I want to be, though.”

“You mean you don’t want to be alive?” d’Artagnan asked, sadness visible in his expression.

“Not really”, Aramis said, still staring at Athos blankly. “The fact that I survived Savoy was just a mistake of fate, wasn’t it? It was only because Marsac had had trouble falling asleep that week that he was awake when the ambushers came and managed to wake me before they attacked us… I really shouldn’t have survived.”

“You’re wrong”, Porthos said, sounding a little hurt. “You survived! I don’t care if it was fate or God or Marsac or whatever that saved you, I only care that you live here and now!”

Aramis gave Porthos a melancholy look and sighed. He shook his head and stood up, walking to his cabinet where he began looking for something.

“What are you doing?” Athos asked.

“Following your example”, Aramis whispered, pulling a small bottle of spirits he usually used to clean wounds. “I’m going to forget.”

Aramis opened the bottle and took a long swig from it. Before he could take another, Athos rushed to him and wrung the bottle out of Aramis’ hands. Aramis let out a cry of frustration and reached for the bottle, but Athos stopped him.

“Stop it”, Athos said. “You know getting drunk will only make you miserable.”

“Oh, so you alone are allowed to drown your sorrows in wine?” Aramis asked, his voice raising with anger. “I don’t want to remember, Athos! I can’t feel a thing; I just want to feel something, even if it’s just drunkenness!”

“It won’t help you”, Athos whispered and pulled Aramis into a warm embrace. “If you can’t feel anything now, let us stay with you until you do. Unlike that bottle of spirits, we can and want to help you.”

Aramis let out a shuddering breath as he slumped against Athos. He clung to Athos’ doublet almost desperately, as if it was the only thing keeping him tied to the world of the living.

“I’m tired, Athos”, Aramis whispered. “I’m tired of all the lies and pain…”

“I know”, Athos mumbled. “You should rest, Aramis dear. You’ve been overworking yourself and Marsac’s reappearance can’t have been good for you.”

“We’ll stay here with you”, Porthos said from where he was still scrubbing Aramis’ doublet. “We won’t let Savoy pull you back down; we’ll guard your sleep like you do ours when we’re hurt.”

Aramis hummed in appreciation as Athos helped him lie down on his bed. Athos pulled off Aramis’ boots that had been soaked in Marsac’ blood while Aramis grabbed his crucifix, holding it against his chest.

“A soul has returned to You, o Lord”, Aramis whispered. “Please keep him safe and let him rest for he has not had the luxury of rest for years. Please be his saviour like he was mine five years ago… And please let me bury Savoy when I bury him. Amen.”

“It’ll be alright”, d’Artagnan said, kneeling on the floor right next to Aramis’ bed. “Wherever he is now, he won’t hurt anymore. And he can finally rest.”

“I know”, Aramis breathed. He was still holding the crucifix, secretly thanking the queen for gifting it to him.

“You can rest too”, Porthos said. “You have us watching over you. God can watch over Marsac while we’re here for you.”

“Thank you”, Aramis said, grabbing Porthos’ hand and squeezing it. He gave Porthos the faintest smile as it was all he was capable of at the moment.

He would not dream that night, not when his brothers guarded his sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always loved and appreciated!


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